


Recall

by Galakii



Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Oneshot, References to Depression, Somewhat, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 07:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30035502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galakii/pseuds/Galakii
Summary: You're still trying to find yourself, but at the very least, you've finally found home.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Recall

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhh this is my first fic...i wrote this at 2am so i'm sorry if it's kinda funky, i'm just venting lol.
> 
> also it's supposed to be from hat kid's pov but in second person idk.

_What is it that you do, with all that time in the world?_

Nothing, really.

* * *

You crash into the ocean.

It's an honest mistake, and you know you're better than this. The water is cold, but it isn't as dangerous as it looks—at least, not to you. It could have been a whole lot worse, anyway; if you'd aimed just a little bit higher, a little bit more to the left, you could've crashed straight into the port instead.

The gruesome, morbid thought that lingers is...interesting, to say the least. You're not suicidal, but you're not opposed to it either.

It's nothing new. There's never anything new, really.

So you keep still and let yourself float about aimlessly for a long while. You hold your breath and watch the surface glitter, relish in a weightlessness that could rival that of space itself. You try not to dwell on the image that could've been moments ago. You try. And you try. And you try.

It's only when the surface of the water breaks suddenly, that you let go.

And it's only when you're caught in the warmth of red and gold and burning amber, that you wake up again.

* * *

Your pantries are empty.

Cooking Cat huffs and puffs as they peek into every last cabinet and drawer and hidden compartment within the kitchen, tossing away fistfuls of rotting snacks and alien goods. They mention something about picky eating habits, about wasting food and unhealthy habits.

You nod along, ignoring the curling emptiness that's settled permanently in your stomach.

There's nothing left to eat, and you don't have the strength to try and find something new in the far beyond, but you don't really say anything either. You simply sit there, at the empty kitchen table with a single chair, and watch as Cooking Cat opens the fridge and nearly yowls at the twitching burger inside.

* * *

You crack and crumble under all the bright lights.

There's shouting, somewhere, and a searing pain crawling down your temple. It's too hot here, too crowded. Your hands tremble with the need to vent, but all you can do is hold yourself together until everything is over. You don't want to hurt. You don't want to be hurt.

The Conductor stomps his foot and points a feathered finger in your direction, shouts something indecipherable. You think you understand, and so you take four steps to the left before jumping high into the air. The lights follow after you, keeping you within the sight of prying eyes.

You swing. They clap.

You land. They cheer.

You fall. Silence.

Shouting. Stomping. You're all too familiar with it, by now.

You wake up.

* * *

It's a somewhat different story, on the other side.

There's music. There's cheer. There's the feeling of weightlessness once again, and the warmth that seeps from your name when spoken by the birds of the moon. You don't feel confined here, but now you feel lost. If you jumped here, who's to say that you wouldn't just float away and disappear?

D.J. Grooves follows after you. He's shouting, stomping, for all the different reasons. He reaches out to pat you on the shoulder.

You wake up.

* * *

You wake, and wake, and wake, but the lingering thoughts don't ever seem to go away.

It makes you wonder if you've done something wrong. Something to deserve this.

You can't go home. Not yet.

Not like this.

* * *

In the forest, you let yourself be a little selfish for once.

Snatcher is the closest of them all to figuring it out, that there's something wrong with you. You think you might be okay with that.

Still, it's nothing new. You fall into a trap, you sign a contract. Your soul leaves you within a flash, and you can't help but wonder if it has any say in the matter regarding...well, everything. You wonder if the two of you should sit down and talk it over, make a compromise.

When you fight a haunted toilet, you wonder if your soul would've been so much happier there than with you.

* * *

You wake up.

Your soul's back, but you still feel emptier than ever.

* * *

In your final moment, just before Vanessa can rip you apart, you idly wonder if you had something in common with her at some point.

When you feel the ice pierce right through you, you realize that, no, that's not true at all.

Vanessa was true to herself, after all.

You have yet to figure out what you are, who you will be, and what to do thereafter.

* * *

You wake up.

* * *

The Time Pieces, they're all that's weighing you down and more.

Yet, you can't find it in yourself to just abandon them.

* * *

You reach out to her.

You wake up.

You shout and stomp.

You wake up.

You say it's okay to be selfish.

You wake up.

You say that we can still be true to ourselves, without the Time Pieces.

You wake up.

* * *

She's lying on the ground now, injured and unconscious.

The Time Pieces loom above you, shimmering, loathing.

You draw your arm back, and smash them all to pieces.

* * *

You wake up.

* * *

When you crash into the ocean, there's a raft nearby.

You don't have time to sink, or have time for the gruesome thoughts hiding in the corners of your mind.

You're hauled above the surface, pulled onto shore.

You're eye to eye with red and gold and burning amber. Mustache Girl smiles warmly at you, flicks your forehead for making such a stupid mistake, and introduces herself without pause.

You think oh, this is new.

* * *

When you enter the kitchen, you're met with the scent of something...well, odd.

It makes your stomach roll and coil and rumble. Cooking Cat, with their keen sense of hearing, glances at you once before laughing kindly. Go ahead and have a seat, they say, I'm just about done.

You don't move. You think that, if you take any more steps, you'll break the dream and wake up hungry again.

Except, there's a plate in your hands suddenly. You recognize the rice, and the meat, and the few pieces of vegetables scattered around. You don't recognize the rest of it, but Cooking Cat is watching you intensely, so you steel yourself and try a spoonful of the stuff.

It's good.

* * *

When you don't get up, the bright lights shutter off.

You still hear shouting, and you still hear stomping, but you don't see that feathered finger pointing at you accusingly. Instead, there's a feathered hand nervously prodding at your arm, at your face. You don't know what to say.

It isn't quiet, but the murmurs from the audience makes for perfect white noise.

* * *

You jump, twirl, laugh, and land perfectly atop a rooftop on the moon.

D.J. Grooves keeps his distance, this time, but the warmth and joy radiating from him is all you need.

* * *

You don't go home.

* * *

_Hey kid, you trying to skip out on our deal or are you just asking to die?_

* * *

Vanessa slithers about, growling and hissing, completely unaware of your presence beneath the grand piano.

You hold your breath, feel your heart skip twice as many beats, wait for an opening.

You're still alive.

* * *

Time Pieces are dangerous, fickle things.

They break, they pierce, they shatter, they explode.

And yet, always, they come back in one piece. Always fine. Always ready.

You're only a little bit envious, and maybe that's why they made you their keeper to begin with.

To understand.

* * *

She tells you it's not fair. She calls you names, says that you have all the chances in the world and _why can't you see?_

You tell her that it's never been fair to begin with. You tell her that you've lived all those chances before, and that you've seen enough.

You break the Time Pieces.

* * *

You wake up.

* * *

You think it's time to go home.

The others, somehow, appear out of nowhere and try to stop you from leaving.

Without hesitation, you stay.

* * *

Mustache Girl doesn't take the Time Piece, in the end.

I don't want that, she says with a sniff. You can tell she's still bitter about the past, about the fight, but she's doing her best not to bring it up. Neither of you were ready for that conversation just yet.

When you ask her why not, she says, I don't need them anymore. I'll do things my way.

And when you shrug, tuck the Time Piece away, she adds, I don't think you need them either.

* * *

You're still trying to find yourself, but at the very least, you've finally found home.

**Author's Note:**

> mom said it's my turn to project on the fictional character.


End file.
